Harry and Snape Go To Town
by Benedict Wonderdash
Summary: First chapter of the wonderful series in which, as the name suggests, Harry and Snape (metaphorically) go to town. Possibly the best piece of work put to pen-gracious, wonderful, illicit-and will take you down a smitten and sultry road of which you will not be able to tread back up, for all else will pale in comparison. For more Wonder, check out his tumblr: Benedict-Wonderdash.
Prepare yourself, dear reader, for the most wonderful prose you've ever read: Snarry fiction.

* * *

Harry searched for the wand. For days upon days, years upon years, Harry searched for the wand: the omnipotent, ever-glowing, ever-reaching wand. Late at night, he dreamed about it—in his hand, thick and warm and long—and the magic that would spurt from it, the spells he would cast, the explosions he would wrought. He heard about it in Hogwarts. The tale drifted through the halls and lay on the lips of students, mysterious and fleeting—the legend, the myth, the echo: _Pinky Winky_.

Now, finally, he found it. He stood in Snape's studio, after-hours and empty.

"I will show it to you, Harry," Snape said, "I have hidden the wand from you for so long, but no longer. You deserve it, Harry, you deserve it."

"Oh, thank you, Snape," Harry said. "Maybe you're not so bad after all!"

Harry readied himself, kneeled down for the grandeur. Snape whipped it out; Harry gasped. The wand shocked him, for it was magic and wondrous, but it was not a true wand—but, instead, lying before him, thick and warm and long, lay the most magical thing of all: Snape's penis.

Harry gurgled. [I will not detail the following that occurred, for I fear you are far too young, but let's just say: Snape and Harry got it on; they went to town, hard, and fucked like two un-castrated dogs on a hot summers day.] Harry wiped the magic from his mouth. "Oh, Snape, that was the most magical wand I've ever used," he said.

"Yes, Harry, well I've had years practice in yielding it. I can cast so many spells in so many directions, you wouldn't believe."

"Oh, yes, I know. You just showed me, Snape. You just showed me."

Harry buttoned up his bottoms and left the studio, flustered and hot. Harry couldn't wait to get back to his dorm and teach Ron the spells Snape just taught him. Or Hermione. Or Nevel. Or— _gasp_ —Malfoy. Harry held no concept of faith, the dirty little slut.

Still, Harry loved being taught. He loved magic so much, and he loved the magic-school. He walked through the wondrous halls, fine, brick, and brown, and stopped. A voice shouted.

"Stop right there, Potter!"

 _Oh no!_ Harry thought. _Draco Malfoy!_

"Where are you going, you snivelling little weasel?"

"I'm coming from Snape's studio," Harry said. "From a private tutoring."

"Never!" Malfoy spat. Green exuded Malfoy, for green was both the colour of Slytherin house (of which he was part) and the colour on his heart, his face, and his words. "Snape would never teach you! He's my tutor!"

"Wanna bet?" Harry said, winking, glint in his eye (dirty slut.)

Malfoy boiled. "I challenge you to a duel!" he said, and he slapped him with his glove.

"You may not wish that, Malfoy, for I am well trained."

"You're nothing, Potter!" he said. "Nothing!"

They whipped out their wands, and danced.

"INCENDIO!" Harry screamed, and a fire burst between them.

They fell into each other, and rolled on the ground.

"STUPIFY!" Malfoy shouted, and Harry became stunned.

Malfoy grabbed Harry's wand, and rubbed his hands all over the frozen Harry, and Harry liked it, but he couldn't let him do it—he couldn't let him win.

"EXPELLIARMUS!" Harry shouted, and his wand fell free, and he bent Malfoy over sideways and cast his final spell. "UGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH" Harry screamed, and Malfoy fell to the ground, red and shaking. He won. He won.

Harry stood, but he fell back. His scar hotted and burned, and he dizzied, out-of-place. He grabbed his head; the name beckoned over. It burned inside him, and brought the memories rushing back. He wanted it to stop. He wanted it to stop. Maybe one day—one fine and wonderful day—he would use his own wand and duel with the nameless, the darkness, the You-Know-Who, and put his parents to rest, rolling over the tides of his life, and quench the scar's burn; his one true desire; his one true end in life; his one true everything: To fuck Voldemort's arse.

[FIN]

* * *

Wonderful, I know. For more Wonderdash, check him out on tumblr at Benedict-Wonderdash!


End file.
